


Clumsy

by vakarians_girl



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, confess your feelings already, two demi-bi fools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vakarians_girl/pseuds/vakarians_girl
Summary: Niamh is attempting to act normally around Adam. It's not going well.
Relationships: Detective/A du Mortain, Female Detective/Adam du Mortain, Niamh O'Driscoll/Adam du Mortain
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	Clumsy

She wanted so badly to kiss him. It felt like every time they were alone together, electricity sparked between their skin. But, to be fair, that electricity often stung, too—Niamh was still so unsure of where she stood with Adam. That uncertainty had only increased since Unit Bravo had begun staying at her apartment, although she had thought perhaps spending more of their off-duty time around each other would make everything fall into place.

It was like, Niamh thought, as she sipped her Earl Grey, there was something she was doing to make Adam mad at her. But his moods changed so quickly, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it was. Or if it was even her, to be quite honest. She peeked over the rim of her mug, trying to glance at him surreptitiously. Adam had been the one to accompany her to Haley’s today, and unlike Nate and Farah, he seemed to have no interest in any of the pastries, breads, or even drinks. He was simply sitting next to her at the large wooden table, gazing silently out the window, appearing to be lost in thought.

Mug still raised to her lips, Niamh marveled at the way the early winter morning sun, filtering in through the wide bakery-front windows, gilded his features. His profile looked as though it had been carved from alabaster, the lines were all so smooth and perfect. A master sculptor had to have made him, if anyone had. Sunlight caught in his eyebrows and eyelashes, turning the blonde to molten gold, The curve of his nose—a nose so perfectly sharp and aquiline it almost hurt to look at—led her eyes straight down his face, past his high cheekbones and dimples to that perfect mouth that had made her blush countless times. His jaw, square and strong, was so well composed and straight that it made her jealous. When she found her gaze flitting back up to his eyes, she was amazed to see the normally cool green of his irises turned to a warm summery colour, sending warmth through her veins as he looked at her—

She started with embarrassment, inhaling sharply, and a few things happened all at once. Tea was pulled back into her throat with the air she sucked in, making her start coughing and spluttering, her startled movement sent more of her tea sloshing onto the table and herself, and the door to the bakery opened, revealing the rest of Unit Bravo. Blushing, coughing, and covered in tea, Niamh jumped to her feet, and sent her mug flying. Farah took one look at her and started laughing, pearly teeth glinting. Nate appeared bemused, and attempted to suppress a grin while he met Niamh’s eyes sympathetically. Morgan eyed Niamh and then Adam, and then Niamh again, and smirked.

And next to her, Adam seemed—this couldn’t get any worse. He seemed to be trying not to laugh.

“I am so sorry,” Niamh said to him, cheeks burning. He didn’t appear to have been splashed, but she wasn’t really apologizing for that, more for looking at him and getting caught looking at him. She grabbed some nearby napkins and hurried to clean up the puddle of tea, wiping up the puddle that spread across the table and onto the ground. At least, there on the floor, under the table, no one could see just how much she was blushing.

She couldn’t believe she’d been so mesmerized by Adam’s face that she hadn’t realized he had turned to look at her. And now he’d seen her gaping like a fish. _Bollocks_. This was a fine old mess. Now here she was, with a pile of sopping wet napkins, under the bakery table. Knowing she would have to emerge again, and soon, made her dread it even more. How could she look him in the face again?

“Niamh? You alright down there?” Farah’s sparkling drawl was brimming with barely quelled laughter.

“Yeah, I’ll just be a mo’,” Niamh said. Where had the mug gone? Glancing around, she finally saw it had rolled away to the other side of the table, and began to crawl over towards it. When she peeked her head out and reached over to the surprisingly resilient crockery, she found another hand brushing against hers. The touch sent sparks up her arm, and Niamh yelped, yanking the hand back hard enough that it cracked into a table leg. Now it really smarted. She looked up, wondering who it had been, and found herself gazing directly into Adam’s eyes.

“I—uh—I mean, that is—I guess I should—this isn’t—” A small smile turned up the corners of his lips, and a surprising chuckle left his mouth. Niamh realized then that she was close enough to feel his breath as it fanned out across her face. In fact, if she only moved a few inches, the gap between them would close, and his lips would be on hers—the blush returned, and she habitually yanked up the neck of her sweater, ensconcing her beet-red face in the turtleneck’s woolen folds. “I’m so sorry!” The words came out slightly muffled, and Adam smiled again, picking up the mug, setting it on the table, and then offered a hand to her. She saw something strange in his eyes, a softness that was so out of character for him that she couldn’t place it at first.

With a swallow, she took his hand, and he helped pull her out from under the table, bringing her upright. Or, he was bringing her upright until an overly eager Farah brushed past them, tripping Niamh. In the split second she felt herself falling, Niamh could have sworn she saw her friend giving her a mischievous smirk and a wink, and then Adam’s arms were around her, and she was pressed so tightly against his chest she could feel every muscle under his skin. Her head snapped up, and she was again, for the third time that morning, staring straight into his eyes. And, strangely enough, that softness, the strange summery warmth, was still there. Her lips parted ever so slightly as she breathed in the smell of him, fingers balled up in his t-shirt. It was intoxicating, warm and strong, and her eyes widened as he held her gaze. Without noticing it, their faces inched closer together, a string between them pulling taught—and then Niamh heard Haley shout:

“You can’t smoke that in here.” This standard Morgan-related reprimand broke the strange spell that had descended over Niamh, and Adam too, and they hastily separated. Niamh blushed furiously and caught Farah’s eye suspiciously, but the agent only grinned demurely. That settled it, she had done it on purpose. She looked down at her sweater, at the large damp patches, and realized she was going to have to change it. There was a shirt in her office, just in case, but it was far less…obscuring than her preferred chunky woolen article. But there was nothing for it, really. She’d have to change into the button down, or walk around with stains on her all day long.

“You all right there, Niamh? Whatever startled you?” Haley’s concern was genuine, and it snapped Niamh out of her reverie, though she kept chewing her lip anxiously.

“Oh, yeah. Just got—um, just got some tea down the wrong pipe. I’m sorry about the mess.”

“It’s no trouble. Do you want another cup to go?” Niamh shook her head and smiled appreciatively.

“Thanks, Haley. But with my luck, I’d spill that one too. Just better get going. Lots to do at the paper today.” She gave a quick wave and started for the door, avoiding Adam’s gaze. “I’ll meet you guys there, yeah? Only, you’ll have to give me a minute to change.” Then she hurried off to her car, struggling briefly with the dented door to the silver hatchback before jumping in.

“Adam,” Morgan asked gruffly, lighting another cigarette, “I hate to ask, but whatever did you do to O'Driscoll?”


End file.
